


Letters of congratulation and some questions re: matrimony

by gnimaerd



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:18:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4812944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnimaerd/pseuds/gnimaerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wedding gift for two awesome ladies in the form of a somewhat revelatory congratulatory note from two more fictional awesome ladies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters of congratulation and some questions re: matrimony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [such_heights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/such_heights/gifts), [imperfectcircle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectcircle/gifts).



Good morrow chaps!

Peg says that’s not at all how you Brits talk but I told her, ‘English, don’t you crush my romantic dreams about your home land! You all wonder around talking Shakespeare and scones and wearing top hats and waxing your mustaches and don’t you say a word to the contrary or I’ll be so beside myself I’ll cry!’ She told me I was being dramatic, at which point I, once again, highlighted my chosen profession to her. Made her laugh. (Worth it, right?)

 

You’re getting married, right? I love a wedding! I tried to drag Peg to my cousin Lucy’s, but she wouldn’t come – she says she doesn’t dance so well – doesn’t dance at all, as it turns out – she said she got stood up for a dance once and dancing’s been no fun ever since, which I think is kinda sad, imagine being stood up just one time and never dancing again? But I guess that’s Peg, she’s real sensitive under that perfect hair and killer lipstick. Not many people know that about her.

 

I did say she wouldn’t have to dance if she didn’t want, I’d just sit with her, prop up the bar all night, we’d have fun, but she still wouldn’t. She’s real particular about the company she keeps, I guess. I tried not to take it personal. We do live together now so perhaps she’s sick of the sight of me! I mean – I don’t suppose that’s really true. She just works a lot and gets tired and needs her alone time, I guess.

 

And now look at that, I’ve rambled on three paragraphs already without getting to the point. Nerves. You’d think I’d be better at those by now – all the auditions I go on, the strangers I have to talk to – but the nerves never go. I did have a point. I wanted to ask you guys something. I’m just working my away around it a couple of times. Gotta psych myself up a little. I might talk a lot but I never talked about this before – though suppose I’m not even right now, am I? I’m writing. Should make this easier.

 

I guess for you guys it’s old hat, and all, but I gotta wonder. How’d you know you were in love? How’d you feel? And was it scary? Cause I… I got a particular dilemma on my hands and not an idea of what to do. It’s silly, being an actress and all, I’m supposed to be real in touch with my emotions, but it’s taken months for me to see it – maybe because I didn’t want to. It’d be that much easier if I weren’t so – if maybe I wanted someone a little more usual. A little more convenient. You know what I mean?

 

You won’t say a word, will you? If Peg were to find out – I’m not sure what she’d think of me. She’s a very modern woman, of course, but I wouldn’t know how to… how she’d… I’d just hate to lose her friendship over something so dumb as my own silly heart.

 

Was it worth saying you were in love? Did you have to say it out loud? Did it come up out your chests like weeds growing? So no matter how much you cut and hacked it out it’d come back till you couldn’t deny a word of it anymore?

 

Cause I never felt so strong before – I never knew it could be like this, like a musical but worse cause it’s real and instead of feeling like bursting into song I feel sick all the time, cause Peggy won’t dance with me. Of all the things to get sick over.

 

Maybe I’m being silly, maybe I’m not in love at all. Maybe I’m making it up – being dramatic. Maybe it’ll stop if I ignore it hard enough. But I’m not sure it will, and I don’t know what to do. If you’ve any advice, I’d much appreciate a word.

Yours,  
Angie Martinelli

 

 +++

 

Dearest ladies,

Congratulations on your new marriage. I’m certain you’ll be very happy – happiness is hard won in this world, and very precious. Enjoy it.

 

I reflect on what could have been with Steve a great deal, I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you to learn. I try not to be especially melancholic over it – it’s not what he’d want for me – but occasionally I’ll allow myself to imagine our future, inevitably over-emotional wedding and all. I’m sure he would have looked exceptionally dashing – if rather bashful, perhaps a little awkward – in a proper suit. It’s sort of a pleasant ache, picturing it, like pressing on a healing bruise. It only makes me want the best for those who can find their way to love without someone ending up crashing a plane into an ice sheet. Really, we can all do without that sort of interruption to our romantic lives. Neither of you plans on taking on Hydra in the immediate future, do you? I wouldn’t recommend it.

 

These days I do mostly attempt to stay in the present. It helps if I stay off the bourbon, and avoid dance halls. Work, friendship, a decent night’s sleep – all these grant more peace than I’d have thought possible six months ago – if you can call my work anything akin to ‘peace’, of course. Although speaking of the present… I’ll admit to having taken a little peep at Angie’s letter. I was mostly checking for spelling mistakes. She’s hasty about such things and it seemed rude to send you something for your wedding that had not been properly proof-read.

 

I’ve a lot to discuss with her, don’t I?

 

Perhaps I should have seen this coming. I did end up kissing her once against a lamp post shortly before our move to LA – it had been a peculiarly romantic night, for two people whose relationship is at least theoretically platonic – moonlight, and music in some little jazz club down town, and then a long, quiet walk home because the trains had stopped running, during which she leaned on my arm and kept telling me how much she liked my hair. Kissing her had just seemed the thing to do, given the circumstances. And she did seem to rather enjoy it. I’ll confess to having enjoyed it, too. Rather a lot. Rather more than I should have. I felt terribly guilty for having taken advantage of her, though. It’s the other reason I stay off the bourbon now. I was worried I’d given Angie the wrong impression, and then relieved when she seemed to have drunk enough to forget it the following morning. Now I’m not at all sure she actually forgot any such thing. And I’m not sure the impression I gave her was the wrong one at all.

 

Well. I’m not entirely sure what to do now, but I suppose dinner and a movie might be a nice start.

 

I will leave you to your nuptials,

Take care of each other,

-Peggy


End file.
